Alone
by Blue Pirate
Summary: "My parents, Elros, Gil-galad, Celebrían. And now...my sons. They were gone. Never again would I see their faces, hear their voices, hold them in my arms or touch them..." A very dark story of what Elrond does to avenge his sons.
1. Chapter One

My anguished cry halted everything abruptly. My eyes filled with disbelieving tears, the words of the messengers still ringing in my ears. Soft, uncertain, though they were, I heard them as malicious hisses. Taunting me. Again, someone had been torn away from me.   
  
I fell to the ground, landing on my knees. My legs just could not bear my weight any longer. My body shook as I cried softly, hands covering my eyes. I could not control myself. I did not want to.  
  
"What has happened?" I heard many ask in frightened tones.   
  
The messengers relayed their shocking, horrifying news, but I only partly heard them.  
  
~*~*~  
  
I was young. I didn't understand.   
  
A horrible pang of pain...of abandonment hit my heart as I watched her toss herself into the sea.   
  
I was young. I didn't understand. What was this immeasurable hurt caused by?   
  
She was gone. No farewell. No I love you, my son. She was just gone.  
  
I was young. I didn't understand...all things. But I did understand that she hadn't cared. The love I had for her...was unreturned. I was hers, but she was not mine. She didn't love me *or* my brother, so blinded was she by the Silmiril.  
  
So why did I care that she was gone? Why did it hurt so?   
  
I was young...I didn't understand...and she was gone forever. But the pain remained.  
  
~*~*~  
  
I stood beside him. I always had...he was my brother. I would stand with him to the last.  
  
He was dying. Dying of old age. But...Elves didn't age in that way...he should not...why had he chosen mortal life? Why had he gone and done such a thing? He was leaving me...leaving me behind. Just like they had.  
  
"Do not cry for me, muindor-nín," he chuckled from his bed, and I averted my eyes so he could not see the tears that shined in them.  
  
He said my name softly after a moment.   
  
I looked back at him and was surprised to see tears in his own eyes. He was not the kind to weep. He never had been.   
  
Once, an elfling-boy had teased me because I had wept freely in front of him. Elros had henceforth decided that crying was childish and that neither if us would ever do it when in the presence of any one but each other. Including Ada, he had said, but that hadn't really happened.   
  
"Yes?" I answered.  
  
"I am going to die..." he answered, as if just realizing it. "I wonder what will happen to me after I depart."  
  
"Do not talk like that yet," I whispered pleadingly. "Not yet. You are not dead yet."  
  
"But I will be," he sighed wearily. "And you will have no one." Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, as were they on my own.   
  
"Not entirely," I replied, though I agreed with him in my heart. I *would* be alone, save one. Yet he was not my brother. He was not my twin. No, my twin was lying on his deathbed, aged and...mortal. "I will have Gil-galad."  
  
"I know that," he whispered. A sob escaped his lips, though he tried to stifle it. "You will be great, Elrond. You will be great. Please take care of yourself." He grabbed for my hand and held it tightly. "I love you, brother..." He stared up into my eyes. His, old and faded. Mine... Forever youthful. His grip lessened on my hand. "I love you...gwanunig-nín." His eyes closed and he fell back against the pillows, his heart giving its last beat.  
  
I placed his limp hand on top of his chest and bowed my head, weeping at my loss.   
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
He lay there on his back. Dead. Covered in dirt, sweat, and blood... Their blood. His blood.   
  
I ran to his side. Though I sensibly knew he wasn't, I hoped with all my heart that he still drew breath. I hoped his heart still beat, I hoped that I wasn't too late. I hoped...it wasn't too late for farewells.  
  
I kneeled, my knees getting soaked in the mud that had been turned by his blood. His eyes were open, shock still in them. Horror. Realization. And strength, pride, and courage. A fallen hero...the last High King.  
  
He breathed still, though. By some small miracle, he breathed. It was shallow, his chest barely moving, and his eyes were half-closed.   
  
I felt his face, brushing the twilight-coloured hair out of his eyes. They moved slightly, trying to see me, though I was right in front of him. One of his pupils was larger than the other. Oh, Eru... I touched a spot near the back of his head, my hand coming away bloodied. A concussion.   
  
"Elrond?" he rasped, then coughed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Elrond is that you?" He opened his eyes again to look at me. "Oh, forgive me, iôn-nín," he whispered. "I didn't mean for this to happen... Yet I knew it would."  
  
"Shh," I hushed him, tears brimming in my eyes. I placed a hand on his chest, and he moved his own over it. "Do not apologize...I..."  
  
"No," he interrupted. "No." He raised his other hand, clasped tightly around something, and placed it in my hand. Holding my hand in both his own, he curled my fingers around the object. "Take care of her..." he whispered, and a cough caused by dust in his throat racked his body. "I...am so sorry, Elrond. I love you... Namárië...iôn-nín."   
  
And he was gone from me forever.   
  
~*~*~  
  
Celebrían...   
  
Her name echoed in my mind as I watched her step onto the boat. So beautiful. So radiant. So sad...so broken. Her whole soul wept.   
  
I blame myself. I was not there for her. Many tell me that even if I had been there, I could not have done anything. But I could have fought for her. I could have taken all the beatings and torture for myself and spared her this pain. If I had been there.  
  
She turned back to me, suffering in her eyes. Begging me to understand. Begging for me to forgive her. For what, though? What has she done?   
  
She called farewell to me. She told me she loves me.   
  
And then she was gone, the boat disappearing into the fog.   
  
She had gone from me. She had left me. Another lost. Even the knowledge that I would see her again did not soothe my aching heart.  
  
Elros...Gil-galad...my parents. Who will it be next? Who else will Mandos take from me?  
  
~*~*~  
  
Dead...killed...orcs...ambush...arrows...found.... Dead. Gone.  
  
Those words raced through my mind, over and over again. I couldn't believe it. All of it was too much. The memories...their faces. The things I had not gotten to say when they were all alive. How I *really* felt.  
  
"Oh, Eru, no...." whispered a voice. Glorfindel. "Elrond...." A felt a hand on my shoulder, which I angrily shook off.  
  
I was still kneeling on the marble floor. I had stopped weeping and was now staring numbly at nothing. No, not nothing. Their faces were in front of me. Little elfling faces, grinning at me. They aged...became adults. Their childish features grew into handsome ones. More solemn, careful ones. Ones that were planned. And then, ones that forever held the hatred of orcs. And for me, though they did not know it. No one knew that I blamed myself for all their deaths and Celebrían's passing.   
  
"Elrond..." Glorfindel tried again, kneeling beside me. I barely noticed the other Elves staring at me, frightened and concerned. I didn't acknowledge the golden-haired Noldo. I was still watching them. My sons.  
  
"Elrond...are you going to be all right?"  
  
They had been ambushed by orcs. Apparently stumbling too close to a nest. They had both been taken, beaten, and killed. For sheer *pleasure*.   
  
Elladan was gone. Elrohir was gone.   
  
My parents, Elros, Gil-galad, Celebrían. And now...my sons. They were gone. Never again would I see their faces, hear their voices, hold them in my arms or touch them...   
  
I bent over, my eyes—blurred with tears—widening. Oh, the pain...! It hurt so much in my heart. It was too much grief... How had I lived through so much pain in the past? When all others had died?  
  
I gave a choked sob, hands thrown against the marble floor, palms slapping against its cool surface. The pain... Oh, it hurt so badly...   
  
It barely registered that I moaned. My eyes squeezed shut and I attempted to pull air into my lungs, to no avail. Waves of pain kept hitting me, overwhelming me. I couldn't breathe. I was going to die. If not from lack of oxygen, then grief. But what bothered me more was that in some dark part of my mind, I *wanted* to die. To get away from this pain and reunite with my fallen family.  
  
Yet still I tried to breathe. Still I tried to live.  
  
"Elrond?" Glorfindel's voice seemed urgent. "Elrond!" He cried for a healer, I think. I...heard him...but I didn't understand.   
  
Elves crowded around my shaking form, but I paid them no heed. They were frightened. Frightened for their lord. I saw it in their eyes. Horror shined especially bright in a young elfling's eyes, staring wide at me. He whimpered to his mother and was reassuringly pulled into her arms.  
  
Hands...Glorfindel's hands, I believe, lifted me up and I was...carried? Was he...carrying me? Could I not just walk...?  
  
No. I couldn't move. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. My senses seemed to have just shut off. There was nothing but pain. Pain and hopelessness. They were gone. All of them...  
  
They were gone.   
  
I felt a jogging sort of sensation as Glorfindel ran to the infirmary...screaming? No, yelling for help...I believe. But I saw nothing still.   
  
More hands. And I was placed on a hospital bed. More yelling. Quiet, reassuring voices. Glorfindel...demanding to know what had happened. Foolish Elf...he knew perfectly well what was happing. Even more foolish was myself. Wondering how I was deaf and still heard these things.   
  
And here I thought that this was slower...that you died slowly over time because of too much grief. But normally that it because of *one* lost loved one...not seven. How had I done it? How had I survived so long with so much pain? Ah, yes...it was my sons and my daughter. My wife. My family. They were my joy. My reason for living. But now they were gone...all except Arwen...my little Evenstar...  
  
I felt a sharp pain run through my body, and I screamed. I was blind, paralyzed, deaf, and hurting. Too much for the body of *any* being.   
  
And then the darkness, the wonderful darkness of the unconscious, took me. And I felt no pain. I felt no suffering. All the faces of my lost loved ones had disappeared. Stopped haunting me. And I was alone. I was still alone. Oh, so alone...   
  
~*~  
  
muindor-nín—my brother  
  
gwanunig-nín—my twin  
  
iôn-nín—my son  
  
~*~  
  
I DO NOT know all that has happened in the Silmiril because I haven't taken the time to read it all. This is just what I have gathered. If anything is wrong, I am sorry about that. Please tell me so I can fix it. And also, if you have the moment, please leave a comment in the review box :) 


	2. Chapter Two

I stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what had happened and why. I had been in such a position for three days, they say. I won't eat, I won't talk, I won't drink, though my throat is parched. Those things don't matter anymore, though. Nothing does.  
  
Word of my 'condition' had been sent to Lothlórien on the day that the messenger had arrived. Arwen was to arrive in a few weeks. I wonder if I have that long...  
  
It was strange. A great healer such as myself was lying—dying—in a bed, opposing all medical attention, sustenance, sleep... What have I come to?  
  
Oh...  
  
They have returned. Their faces, Their beings, have come again. Oh, how I hate this! They came...every day...and accused me. They showed me what horrible deeds I have committed through my life. And...all of it is true. I knew it. They knew it. I...am a terrible person, deserving death. And death I shall have.  
  
They came, slowly stepping toward my bed, swirling forms of shining silver. Beautiful. Yet darkness and grey touched them as well, as they come closer to me, until they turned completely grey, no longer lovely, but tainted. Tainted by me.  
  
I averted my eyes, trying to hide away from these beautiful creatures. I would do more, if I could. Throw myself under a blanket, run out of the room so they would not have to look upon my face...but I cannot. I had to endure this humiliating meeting time and time again. And I deserved it. I deserved to be shown how horrible I am.  
  
"Elrond..." They whispered as one.  
  
I do not look at Them.   
  
"Elrond..." They whispered again, commandingly, and I had no choice but to look up.  
  
They moved, majestically, and separated. Elros, Gil-galad, Celebrían, Elladan, Elrohir...my parents, though I knew it was impossible. They were here again. To accuse me.  
  
"Elrond..." whispered Celebrían. She placed her head into her hands, weeping softly. "What have you done? Our sons...were we not enough? Did more have to die?"  
  
"I...didn't mean to..." My voice sounded like stones grating against each other. Horribly weak and harsh compared to their melodious tones.  
  
"Are you satisfied, *peredhel*?" hissed Gil-galad.   
  
The words stung more than anything they had ever said. He...hated me for my tainted blood as well as my deeds... O, Valar, help me, though I do not deserve it.  
  
"I...did not mean it..." I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.  
  
"Liar!" cried Celebrían.   
  
"Liar," declared Elros, eyes narrowing angrily, accusingly. "You meant to, Elrond. You...meant...to. And you *enjoyed* it."  
  
"Adar..." The form of Elladan moved forward. Fire...angry red flames are in his eyes. He had always been the louder, more violent of the two... "Adar, you killed me."  
  
"No!" I sobbed, reaching out to them. No...I had not...I...  
  
"Yes..." hissed Elrohir, taking his place next to Elladan. Two beautiful...*wronged* children. *My* children. *My* wrongs. But I denied it. "Yes, you did. You were not there for us. Is not a father supposed to be there for his children? To love them and guide them...*away* from the enemy."  
  
I stared up at them stunned. "I did not want you to die, ionnath," I whispered. "I did not. You chose to avenge your mother...and I could not stop you."  
  
"So you blame *us* now?" cried Elladan. "You are forcing this on your *children*?"  
  
I bowed my head in shame. "I..."   
  
"You *should* be ashamed of yourself, iôn-nín," said a voice. It was the first time she had spoken. Her voice was soft, resembling more of a drifting song. It was exactly how I remembered...yet it was rebuking me now.   
  
"Indeed. Is this my son? The great Elrond, Lord of Imladris, herald to the High King Gil-galad? Killer of family?" I didn't know how to describe his voice... It was...deep. Strange, commanding. Not melodious, yet still beautiful.   
  
They both stood in the back. My parents. And they rebuked me.  
  
"You are a *murderer*," growled Gil-galad.  
  
"No...no I'm not..." Why were they being so cruel...?   
  
"Yes, peredhel, you are."  
  
"What do you want with me?" I cried angrily, desperation in my voice. They stared back at me calmly.  
  
"We want you to end it," said Elros coldly.  
  
I stared at him in shock. My own brother...!  
  
"Yes," hissed Elrohir. "End it, Adar." My own *son*.  
  
"For our sake," said Elladan. "If you do, we will forgive you. And you will join us and once more be happy."  
  
Forgiveness...happiness.   
  
I nodded slowly, sitting myself up, however painful it was, and reached out to the tray that was on a small table next to the bed. The tray had on it food that day after day Glorfindel and the healers pleaded with me to eat.   
  
One of the soldiers had stopped by earlier with the news outside—another idiotic thing that Glorfindel had done to try to help me—and had seen the untouched food. Apples...he liked apples, the soldier had said, then proceeded to pick up the apple on the tray. He had used his dagger to peel it, a habit I didn't particularly approve of, yet I had not said anything. The soldier had been called out and had conveniently left his dagger on the tray and had not yet come back to retrieve it yet. That is what I wanted.  
  
My fingers touched it and I pulled it into my hand. I grasped the hilt tightly and brought it toward me. Tears and pain came into my eyes as I saw the eager faces of my fallen family. But I ignored it. That would change. They would accept and love me again, if...I...just...  
  
I turned the sharp blade to myself. To my heart that pained me so much. The light reflected off the metal as it passed the lantern. I brought it to the thin cloth of the robes. All was ready. All I needed to do was plunge the cold steel into my heart, and it would all be over. All of it would be over.  
  
Warm blood trickled down my chest, staining my robes. I had unconsciously pressed the blade harder into my skin, successfully breaking it. I pulled the blade back slightly.  
  
"Do it," urged Gil-galad. My sons nodded, Elros standing behind them and looking at me darkly. Celebrían stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.  
  
"You owe it to us, Elrond," she said softly. "We are waiting.  
  
"We are waiting..." said my parents.  
  
"You owe it..." said Elladan.  
  
"...to us, Adar," finished Elrohir.   
  
"Dearly, Elrond. Dearly," added Elros softly. His cold, dark look had not left his eyes.   
  
I owed it to them. I had killed them and let Celebrían sail...I did not do all in my power to save them. I could have helped Celebrían better. I...*know* I could have saved them...couldn't I have? But, yes. I owed them this much. I pressed the blade against my chest once again.   
  
And...  
  
And Glorfindel opened the door. His mouth hung half-open, ready to say something, but no words came. We stared at each other long, time seeming to stop. I never moved my gaze from him, though I knew They had gone. They always went when someone came.  
  
Then everything returned to normal.   
  
"Elrond!" Glorfindel cried. In an instant the dagger was out of my hands, skittering across the floor. A hand touched the blood on the front of my robes, then drew back. Two seconds of stunned silence...and the a sharp slap rang through the room.  
  
I raised a hand to touch my smarting cheek and took it back, looking at in in surprise. Blood from Glorfindel's fingers—*my* blood—was deep crimson on my hand.  
  
Glorfindel was staring at his own hand, equally shocked. He lowered it after a moment and looked at me gravely. "What has come over you?" he asked, his voice higher than normal.   
  
"They told me to do it..." I whispered, looking down at the blanket that covered my legs. "I...killed them."  
  
"What on Arda are you talking about?" cried Glorfindel angrily. "Are you sick in the head? Do you want to die, is that it?"  
  
"I'm *dieing*, Glorfindel!" I yelled, immediately regretting it. It hurt my chest and my throat to raise my voice to him with so much force.   
  
"I know that!" he shouted. "I know that, Elrond! But by your own hand?" His features softened and he kneeled beside my bed, resting his head against the side. "But you cannot die," he said softly, wearily. "Your people need you. Who will rule in your stead? Surely not me..." He sighed. "But that is what will happen, isn't it? Your sons..." He stopped and looked up at me. "Your sons are gone, Elrond. There is no one left."  
  
"It is my fault..." I whispered, barely audible for even his enhanced hearing to pick up.   
  
"No," he said vehemently. "Do not say such things! It is not your fault, Elrond. None of it was your fault. You did not cause anyone's death."  
  
I stared at the wall silently for a moment before saying, "I didn't? Not Elros', not Gil-galad's? No one's?"  
  
"No one's," he confirmed. "You did not kill your sons."  
  
I leaned back against the carved headboard. I knew what must be done. By my hand. But I was not strong enough.   
  
I reached over for the tray and drew it to me. Ignoring Glorfindel's shocked look and my hesitant stomach, I placed it on my lap and raised the utensil laden with a dull type of meat to my lips. My appetite was no more, but I forced it down, followed by a glass of water.  
  
Only to demand a bucket moments later.  
  
But I will regain my strength. I will die, yes. The grief will get me, I know it. My end is near. But I will not leave until I have had my revenge.   
  
~*~  
  
peredhel—half-elf  
  
ionnath—my sons  
  
iôn-nín—my son  
  
~*~  
  
Thanks for your reviews. They make me smile really big :D. Only one or two more chapters left, so hang on. Also, I do not own Lord of the Rings. If I did...well, it would have turned out very different. ^_~ 


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